


Bleeding Out

by aware



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 16:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4884439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aware/pseuds/aware
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hey! so this is a parvill fic based on the song Bleeding Out by Imagine Dragons.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Bleeding Out

**Author's Note:**

> hey! so this is a parvill fic based on the song Bleeding Out by Imagine Dragons.

_I’m bleeding out for you, for you_

Strife walked into the one room he positively hated. Parv’s blood magic room. He rounded the corner as he gulped, trying not to express his discomfort. He stopped as he saw Parv, his Parv, crouched over the altar. Not a rare sight, but this time was different.   
“He… He… He’s okay! He… Strife is okay! Stop! Stop telling me this! He’s fine!”

_when the hour is nigh, and hopelessness is sinking in_

Parv was running his hands through his hair violently, his body shaking as he keeps muttering to himself. Should Strife do something? It was freaking him out. Who was he talking to? Himself?   
“Will you stop if I do it again? Please! Don’t hurt him!”

_and the wolves will cry, to fill the night with hollering_

Strife was definitely worried by now. Parv had stood up, his slender frame even thinner with sleep deprivation, and he hadn’t eaten in a while, by the looks of it. He was shaking, a lot, and his clothes were stained with the blood that still oozed from the many wounds on his arms. He walked to a chest at the side of the room, almost falling on his way there and Strife really wanting to go and help him. But he wanted to see what he was up to. 

_when your eyes are red and emptiness is all you know_

The knife Parv held was familiar to Strife. The blood that plagued it, even more. This wasn’t right. Something was very wrong with Parv. But what? Strife wasn’t used to not knowing. He looked back at his bloodmage, who was back in his original position.   
“Strife, Strife, Strife, Strife,” the chant replayed over and over, Parv turning the knife in his hand. 

_with the darkness fed, I will be your scarecrow_

Parv traced the familiar lines on his forearms with the small dagger, the dark liquid flowing freely down his arm and slowly dripping off his fingers and into the altar. It started to fizz, and Strife looked on worriedly at Parv.   
“He’ll be okay now. That’s good. That’s good. It’s not enough? This isn’t enough? Okay, but for Strife. For Strife.” His voice was barely a whisper as his eyes fell onto the knife and widened. “But that’s more, more than usual, are you sure? Okay…” Parv went to slash at his arms, and Strife tumbled into the room before he could think, grabbing the bloodied hand and pulling it towards him.   
“Strife! What are you doing?” The Mage stared into the deep green eyes of his boyfriend - a term they both had to get used to - and snatched his hand back.   
“Parv, stop. You’ll lose too much blood.” Strife looked worried as he pulled the knife out of Parv’s hand, wiping the blood on his trousers before slipping it into his pocket.   
“No but-but-but Strife you’ll get hurt! I have to give her my blood!” Parv tried to fight his way to the knife in the black trouser pocket.

_you tell me to hold on_

“Parv.”   
The abysses of Parv’s eyes snapped to Strife’s, both the men freezing in place. Before Strife could react, Parv’s lanky guitarist arms were around his neck and his face was buried in his shoulder, gentle sobs escaping from him. Strife just held him, waiting until he was okay enough to speak, to explain, and Parv raised his head.   
“I-I can hear her Strife.” he whispered, Strife almost missing what he breathes.   
“Who, Parv? Who do you hear?”  
Parv gulped, looking away from Strife and glancing at the floor. He was considering the consequences of what could happen if he told him this. 

“I hear - I hear Mother.” 

Strife’s surprise is evident in his features - the slight widening of his eyes and the crease in his brow - but he keeps it together. Because what would happen if he didn’t? Strife took a deep breath before whispering back;  
“Okay, Parv. We’ll fix this, together. Just hold on. It’ll be okay.”


End file.
